He didn’t like it.
After applying hydrogen peroxide to the gashes on my arm and cheek, I broke out the vacuum and wondered if I had time to do a room or two before I needed to get ready for work. My mother’s bedroom was the smallest, so I figured I could at least get that one done.
I plugged the vacuum cleaner in, pushed Mom’s twin bed over to the far wall, and bent down to pick up a shoe box she had under the bed.
Mr. Friskers, apparently still angry about the bath, launched a surprise attack, bounding into the room and leaping onto my back. I twirled around, feeling one of his claws dig into my shoulder, and the shoe box opened up and spewed paper everywhere like a snowblower.
The cat howled. So did I. Luckily, within reach was something he hated even more than the squirt gun-the vacuum.
I pressed the on pedal with my toe, and the sound alone was enough to make him disengage and haul ass out of the room.
All of those people who crow about how pets enrich our lives are full of shit.
I kicked off the vacuum, looked at the mess of paper around the room, and sighed as I began to pick stuff up.
It was mail, mostly. Some letters from one of my mother’s old boyfriends. I inadvertently saw the phrase nibble your luscious wet and had to turn away before I saw any more.
One envelope, however, stood out because it was still sealed. Written on the front was the word Jacqueline in my mother’s florid script.
I stared at it for a moment. On one hand, it was sealed and hidden in a box under my mother’s bed. On another hand, it had my name on it.
On any other day, I would have put it back unopened. But I was exhausted, emotionally frazzled, and I didn’t need anything else hanging over my head at the moment.
I opened the envelope and read the letter:
My Darling Daughter,
If you’re reading this, it is because you’ve been going through my things after I’ve died. I hope my passing hasn’t caused you too much distress.
I take that back. I hope you’re completely devastated. I loved you more than life itself, and know you felt the same way about me. You’re the one good thing I did with my life.
There’s something you should know, something I’ve never had the courage to tell you when I was alive. You see, I can’t forgive the man, and I knew if you learned the truth I’d have to deal with my buried feelings all over again. It was wrong, and you have every right to be mad at me, but now that I’m dead, I don’t have to hear you condemn me for my decision.
I’ve lied to you, Jacqueline. When you were small, you were told your father died of a heart attack. In truth, he didn’t die. He left us. One day, after supper, he calmly told me that he hated being a husband, hated being a father, and didn’t want to have anything to do with us ever again. Then he walked out of our lives forever.
I told you he died because, essentially, he was dead to us. It was easier to tell a child that her father wasn’t coming back because he was no longer with us, rather than he no longer wanted to be a father. I meant to tell you the truth, when you got older, but I feared you’d track him down and confront him.
It took a very long time for me to move on, after he left. You were a wonderful girl to raise, but you know how difficult we had it. I cannot ever forgive him for what he did to us, and never want to see him again.
I urge you to just let this go, but I know you won’t. It isn’t in your nature. You’ll track him down, and ask him why he did what he did.
When that moment comes, dearest Jacqueline, give the bastard a swift kick in the family jewels from me.
Love, Mom
It took me a few seconds to process what I’d just read. Then it took me a few more seconds to get on the phone with Mom.
“Good morning, Jacqueline. How’s my kitty cat? Is he eating?”
“Mr. Friskers is fine. I-”
“And how’s Latham? I really like that man. If I were a few years younger-”
I didn’t think this was the time to hit her with that news, so I held it back.
“Mom, I was cleaning up in your room, and I found the letter.”
“Oh, don’t be upset. So I exchanged a few dirty letters with a few men. I find the written word much more erotic than pornographic movies. Though I did date this one gentleman who took me to a peep show once-”
“Not that letter, Mom. The other one, with my name written on it.”
My mother paused. “Oh. That letter. Did you read it? Of course you did, or you wouldn’t be calling. Unless you’re asking my permission to read the letter, to which I’ll politely answer no.”
“Dad is alive?”
Mom sighed, as if I was such a disappointment she couldn’t bear it. “I honestly don’t know. He might be. I really don’t care, one way or the other. Did you read the part when I wrote that you were the one good thing I did in my life? Did that make you cry? I cried when I wrote it. But, truth told, I’d been hitting the schnapps.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Mom, don’t you think this is something we should have discussed before you died?”
“Well, I’m not dead, and we’re discussing it right now.”
“Who is it?” A male voice said in the background.
“My daughter, Charlie. Go back to sleep.”
“Mom, are you in bed with someone?”
“Don’t be shocked, Jacqueline. We were just sleeping.” I heard her peck him on the cheek. “The sex won’t happen until later, in the shower.”
“Look, Mom, I’m upset right now.”
“Well, don’t be upset with me. I’m not the one who left us.”
I set my jaw. “He’s my father, and I should have known he was still alive.”
“Why? So he could hurt you again? You don’t know what it’s like to have the man you married, the father of your child, look at you and tell you he wants no part of you. Believing he was dead was a much easier way to deal with the loss.”
It was like wrestling with an octopus.
“That should have been my decision to make, Mom.”
“Well, now it is. But if you find him, I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to know if he’s dead or alive. I don’t want to discuss it. Ever.”
“Fine.”
“Also, since you’re obviously being very meticulous in your cleaning of my personal space, I suggest you stay out of my bedside cabinet, lest you find more things that upset you. Good-bye, Jacqueline.”
She hung up. I marched into her bedroom, tugged open the drawer next to her bed, saw a variety of battery-controlled devices in different sizes and shapes, then closed the drawer and tried to get the images out of my head. Especially of the really long red one.
Mom knew I’d open the drawer. She did that on purpose to rattle me. I became even more annoyed.
Mr. Friskers appeared in the doorway and hissed in my direction.
“Not now,” I warned him.
He seemed to consider it, then trotted away. I glanced at the clock, saw I was running late, and hopped in the shower. I didn’t have time to condition, did a quick towel dry, dressed in a gray Tahari Mandarin collar jacket that I bought in a set with a beige cami and black slacks. God bless the Home Shopping Network. I eyed a pair of Emilio Pucci heels, which had so many different colors in their crazy design they looked like they were made of Care Bear skins, but ultimately went with some Taryn Rose “Stevie” flats, figuring I’d be running around all day.
The long drive to work gave me time to apply my makeup in the car and for my hair to air dry, providing it wasn’t humid enough to give me the frizzies.
An hour later I was pulling into my District parking lot. The day turned out to be rain-forest humid, and the only thing I could do with my brown curls was tie them in a ponytail.